


once bitten, twice shy

by glitteringconstellations



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Hunk (Voltron), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Dad Keith, Dad Lance, Do Not Remove And Post Outside Of AO3, Do Not Repost To Pocket Fanfic Archive Library, I Do Not Consent To Any Profits Made As A Direct Or Indirect Result Of This Work, I Do Not Consent To Reposts Of My Content, Multi, No one dies don't worry, Suspense, Thriller, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Keith, bound and gagged, well no one we care about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 21:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19237747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteringconstellations/pseuds/glitteringconstellations
Summary: Keith lurched forward against his binds and clamped down hard on whatever bit of skin he could. The raider howled in pain as Keith sunk his teeth into the bit of flesh between his left forefinger and thumb, only releasing it when the man delivered a forceful punch to his gut. The man leapt several paces back, clutching at his wrist with his good hand.“The only thing I’ll tell you,” Keith said, bearing his bloody teeth as his smile grew, “is that you’ve got about two days before the infection sets in.”The man stared in disbelief at his hand, back to Keith, and again once more.“You’re lying,” the man snapped.“It’s true,” Keith replied. How he maintained such a calm attitude was beyond Hunk. “I’m infected."





	once bitten, twice shy

**Author's Note:**

> Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: bound and gagged with Keith and Hunk as requested by two anons. Unbetaed this time because I was just anxious to get this posted, and probably super rushed. But I wrote 4k+ in one sitting, I'm proud of me! Stupid title is stupid, though lolsob. I hope you all like it anyway!

_It’s just a supply run,_ they said. _You’ll be in and out before you know it,_ they said. _You’ve done this a hundred times. What could possibly go wrong?_

Everything. The answer was _anything and everything_ could go wrong. Of _freaking course_ it was asking too much for things to go according to plan for once.

The blade traced feather light at Hunk’s throat, rising and falling with the bob of his Adams’ apple as he swallowed. He nearly went cross-eyed staring at the knife down the bridge of his nose. A whimper escaped him, muffled behind the gag stuffed into his mouth and tied so tightly it gave him a headache.

Hunk could scarcely open his left eye, and he imagined there must have been a pretty gnarly bruise blossoming on his temple there. His nose was likely broken, too, pulsating with pain and the warmth of blood dripping down his upper lip and soaking into the already-bloodied gag.

Across from him, Keith glared his captor in the eye, his chin raised in silent defiance. Not that he could say anything even if he wanted to from behind a gag of his own. Between the two of them, Keith sported injuries far greater than Hunk’s own, being up close and personal to the fight. Several lacerations peppered his torso staining his ruined shirt, and Hunk imagined the matching wounds on his arms weren’t helped any by the several yards of duct tape binding him, wrist to elbow, to the arms of the chair.

Hunk’s captor merely kept up his ministrations, the tip of his blade dancing back and forth, back and forth. Hunk feared so much as shaking would cause him a slit throat, and he liked his blood right where it was, thanks.

“Now,” Keith’s captor was saying, taking much too much pleasure out of teasing his captive. “We can make this easy, or we can make this difficult. The choice is yours. I’m going to remove your gag, and you’re going to tell me where we can find your companions. We know you’ve a safe house in the area, and, well, we want it.”

Hunk gulped again, the blade to his throat following the motion. _Please don’t do anything stupid_ , he pleaded silently. Staring wide-eyed at Keith, he hoped to get his companion’s attention. Alas, Keith continued glaring daggers. Oh, if only looks could kill.

“You cooperate,” the captor continued, “and we’ll let you live as we kick you out. You won’t have much time left, seeing as we’ll be taking anything useful, but you’ll still have your lives.” He nodded to his cohort, who suddenly stopped stroking Hunk’s neck and pressed the blade flush up against it, hard enough to draw droplets of blood. 

“You refuse, and everyone you love dies, starting with Tubbs over here. He looks like a squealer, and there’s no one but the three of us out here to hear him squeal. It’ll be great fun.”

The captor moved to remove the gag from Keith, never once letting that smug smirk of his drop. Hunk heard Keith hiss through his nose in pain as the man purposely trod on Keith’s bare foot, putting his full weight down on it as he reached around the back of Keith’s head to undo the knot.

Stupid mistake.

As soon as the gag dropped to his chin, Keith lurched forward against his binds and clamped down hard on whatever bit of skin he could. The raider howled in pain as Keith sunk his teeth into the bit of flesh between his left forefinger and thumb, only releasing it when the man delivered a forceful punch to his gut. Hunk only saw Keith’s face when the man leapt several paces back, clutching at his wrist with his good hand.

Keith looked _murderous_ , his eyes alight with rage, and yet a smile twitched at his lips.

“The only thing I’ll tell you,” Keith said, bearing his bloody teeth as his smile grew, “is that you’ve got about two days before the infection sets in.”

Hunk’s eyes mirrored those of the man’s as they grew impossibly wider. The man stared in disbelief at his hand, back to Keith, and again once more.

“You’re lying,” the man snapped.

“It’s true,” Keith replied. How he maintained such a calm attitude was beyond Hunk. “I’m infected. Pull down my collar, you’ll see.”

“I’m not _stupid_. You’ll just bite me again.” The hiccup in his voice belied his terror.

Keith again jerked against his restraints, the loose, tattered remains of his shirt shifting just so. “Look at it!”

“What is that?” asked Hunk’s captor, speaking for the first time since Hunk came round. “Dude, _what is that_?” He abandoned Hunk, who let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Not giving his cohort the chance to protest, he crossed the room and yanked down on the collar, ripping the shirt even more. There on Keith’s collarbone was a very damning bite mark, red and purple and inflamed.

Hunk’s stomach sunk.

“It’s not real!” the bitten man shouted. “It can’t be! He would have turned by now!”

“It looks pretty god-damned real to me!”

“You going to risk it?” Keith taunted. He raised his chin again, this time at Hunk’s captor. “One bad apple spoils the bunch. Say he turns in the middle of the night, while everyone’s asleep. Puts your whole operation down with just a bite.”

“Shut up.”

“You really plan on letting him live, on the off chance that I might be lying to you?”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

The man stepped forward again, kicking Keith square in the chest so hard it tipped his chair over. Keith couldn’t stifle the cry when his head his the cement floor. Hunk winced—it sounded like a watermelon hitting pavement. But the wounded man kept coming, kicking at any part of Keith he could reach. His head, his chest. Keith’s legs flailed in a desperate attempt at self-defense, unable to stop the blows from colliding with him.

Hunk screamed and writhed against his own binds, whipping his head around back and forth trying to loosen his gag. Tears of both pain and heartbreak streamed down his face. _Please, this can’t be happening. Please, no._

At long length, Keith stilled.

Tense silence fell over the room. The wounded man heaved for breath, still clutching at his wrist. The other captor stood staring, shell-shocked and seemingly unsure of what to do next. Hunk stilled, his cries reduced to whimpers. _No, no, please, God, no._ None of them would admit it, but they were waiting.

Waiting for what, Hunk dreaded to find out.

“How long does it take a dead man to turn if he’s infected?” the wounded man asked, his voice shaky and terse. “Minutes, right?” The other man nodded dumbly. Hunk whimpered again, louder this time.

Keith couldn’t be dead. He just _couldn’t be dead_.

“We’re going to find out,” the wounded man continued, his voice pitching higher. “We’re going to stand here and he’s not going to turn, because the little shit was lying. He was _lying_ and I’m going to be just f—”

A snarl cut him off.

Hunk could only see the bottom side of Keith’s chair, his bruised and battered legs dangling limp over the edge of it. His stomach lurched in primal fear. That wasn’t the first time he’d heard such a snarl, and it wouldn’t be the last. He choked back a sob.

Keith’s legs twitched.

The wounded man stared in horror as Keith jerked unnaturally in his chair, hisses and growls coming low from his throat. “No,” he stammered. “No, no, no, this isn’t… it can’t…”

A hammer cocked.

The wounded man turned to his friend.

Hunk had only time enough to see that he’d pulled out a gun before a deafening shot erupted from the gun. The wounded man collapsed in a heap on the floor, a hole right between his eyes. The other captor—now the only one left standing in the room, cast a panicked gaze between Keith and Hunk. Training his gun on Hunk, he edged closer to the writhing Keith, planting a boot right on his throat to keep him from snapping those gnashing teeth at him.

“Told him this was a _stupid_ fucking idea,” he muttered, still keeping the muzzle of his pistol pointed at Hunk while he flipped a pocket knife open with his teeth. “Stupid mother fucker going to get us all killed.”

He slashed at the tape on Keith’s arms, hacking and sawing until it gave way. He stumbled back only just in time to dodge Keith’s grasping claws, righting himself and quickly sliding along the wall to the door.

“I ain’t dying here,” he told Hunk, a crazed look in his eye, “and I sure as hell ain’t getting blamed for this shit if your people come hunting you down. Let the god-damned biter take you.” With that, he darted from the room, the door slamming tightly shut behind him.

Hunk’s eyes only followed the man to the door briefly, before movement had him snapping his head back over to where Keith lay across the room. Slowly, Keith clambered to his feet. Hunk let out a low moan of dismay as Keith swayed on the spot, seemingly gathering his bearings, before he lay his eyes on Hunk.

Eyes that took on a distinctly golden hue.

Hunk sobbed around his gag, even as the panic spiked to maximum levels. Keith’s head twitched as he began to stagger towards Hunk, his left arm bent an unnatural angle. Instinct took over and Hunk frantically began to yank at his bindings. Keith drew closer and closer, and Hunk screamed as he drew close enough to be at arms’ length—

With all his strength, Hunk reared his legs back and kicked Keith in the chest. His friend staggered back and tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground. At the same time Hunk’s chair tipped over, and he only just remembered to tuck his chin down so that he didn’t smack his head against the floor the way Keith had.

He heard rather than saw Keith getting back up. Hunk rocked himself side to side, finally managing to get his knees beneath him with a pained grunt. By the time he rose to unsteady feet, Keith charged at him again. Not having much choice, Hunk used the chair as a weapon, spinning around and using the momentum to pitch Keith across the room once more.

It bought Hunk some time. With Keith dazed, Hunk looked frantically around the room. Most of the structure was built from salvage and scrap, and wouldn’t do him any good. But along one wall behind him was a pillar made of brick. Perfect. Hunk rammed himself back into it, once, twice, three times. For a rickety wooden chair, the thing was stupidly strong. He had to use the chair to fend Keith off once more, finally splintering it to shreds on his sixth try.

Not a moment too soon, either. He lifted his right arm—tape, chair arm and all—up just in time for Keith’s jaws to clamp down around it. Hunk wasted little time yanking at the gag in his mouth, loosening it just enough for it to fall to his neck.

“Fight it, Keith!” Hunk pled. “This isn’t you, man! I know you can fight this!”

If Keith understood him, he didn’t show it.

Hunk pushed back on Keith’s shoulder with the piece of wood taped to his other arm, using his weight to his advantage to flip their positions and trap Keith against the pillar.

“You didn’t fight this whole time just to let this beat you now,” Hunk said, pushing the wood still taped to his arm further into Keith’s mouth and letting Keith gnaw on that. “Remember your family! You have Lance waiting for you at home! Your kids!”

The barest flicker of recognition flashed in Keith’s eye. Hunk was on to something.

“Remember when you found Leo? His mother was dead. You took in a stranger’s kid, a helpless babe, and you fed him and bathed him and changed him and nursed him back to health when he was sick.” Keith’s gnawing slowed, if only a fraction. “Yeah, that’s it, man. Focus on Leo. You fought off Sendak and his cronies with him strapped to your back! You got hurt, but you didn’t let them hurt Leo. Because you love him.”

Keith lurched forward again, catching Hunk by surprise. He recovered quickly, though, shouldering Keith harder against the pillar. Guilt churned in his stomach when he heard something in Keith crack beneath his force—he didn’t want to hurt his friend any more than he absolutely had to.

“And Nadia and Sylvio! Remember them? You told Sylvio you’d teach him how to squirrel hunt. You promised Nadia you’d let her do your hair for my wedding. They _worship the ground you walk on_ , dude. They’re as much your kids as Leo is. Focus!”

Keith clawed at Hunk’s arms, leaving long scratches down the tape there. Of all the things, the tape was serving as a sort of gauntlet now. Hunk might have laughed if he weren’t so close to tears. Keith wouldn’t focus, too determined to get to Hunk. He wasn’t hearing anything Hunk said anymore. This wasn’t _working_.

Hunk switched directions, frustration and panic quickly rising.

“What about Lance, huh? You’re all he has left! What the quiznak am I supposed to tell him? That I let his husband turn? Are you going to leave the kids without one of their dads?”

He grit his teeth against Keith’s insistent struggling. Hunk might have had a hundred pounds on Keith, but Keith had always been physically stronger than him, even without the infection. One of Keith’s hands connected with his face and _shoved_ , hard, against Hunk’s broken nose. Hunk cried out in pain, and the distraction was all Keith needed to sweep Hunk’s feet out from under him.

Hunk crashed to the ground. Keith straddled him in no time flat, putting his weight on Hunk’s chest to keep him pinned. Tears flowed freely from Hunk’s eyes as he struggled to keep Keith from sinking his teeth into his jugular. Blood and spittle splattered on to Hunk’s face as Keith snarled and snapped at him.

“ _Please_ , Keith! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Hunk scanned the room frantically for something, _anything_ , that might help him. In another life, another time, the room might have been a storage closet for an antique shop, as dusty trinkets and other junk lined the walls like they’d been pushed out of the way. It was hard to see much of anything, a single bulb illuminating what the little sunlight filtering in from the filthy windows couldn’t reach.

And then he saw it—thrown carelessly on top of a pile of broken old clocks, top open like it’d been rifled through. _His pack_.

He needed to get to that pack.

An inhuman roar left his lips as he dredged up the last of his strength, hauling Keith off of him. As soon as he had clearance he rolled to his stomach and pushed himself up, running for his pack before he was even completely upright. Keith grasped at his pant leg and with a silent apology, Hunk kicked him off. Keith wouldn’t be using that hand for anything for a while, if he made it through this.

 _When_ he made it through this.

The pack was much lighter than he remembered it being, when he all but wrenched it from its perch. Much of its contents were gone—the raiders must have helped themselves while he was out. Hunk rifled through it with trembling hands.

“Please still be in here, please still be in here, please still be in here,” he chanted. Some playing cards, a length of rope, nope, nope, nope, not it. Keith righted himself again. Hunk’s strength was leaving him, and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

His fingers closed around smooth, cool glass. A relieved and grateful sob shuddered out of him.

Discarding the pack, Hunk pulled the vial out and engaged the needle in one fell swoop. He’d only get one shot at this, and he prayed it wasn’t too late. Keith grew closer, and closer, every minute of Hunk’s struggle only enraging him more. And then—

With a mighty yell, Hunk sunk the needle into Keith’s neck and jabbed his thumb down on the plunger.

The effect was near instantaneous. Every muscle in Keith’s body seized and he stopped dead short of Hunk, his jaw falling open on a silent scream and his golden eyes rolling to the back of his head. Hunk heaved for breath and _waited_.

He didn’t have to wait long. As quickly as it stiffened, Keith’s body sagged like his strings had been cut. Hunk dropped the vial, letting it shatter on the floor in favor of catching Keith and sinking to the ground with him. Keith shivered in his arms, a pained noise escaping him.

“That’s it, buddy, that’s it… just relax, let it do its thing. You’re going to be okay.”

How long they sat there, Hunk stroking Keith’s hair and murmuring comforting words to him while Keith recovered, Hunk didn’t know. Long enough that the sunlight through that dirty window dimmed, casting a pale golden glow as it sank beyond the horizon. Hunk pointedly kept his gaze off of the body that still lay not three yards from him.

After what seemed like an eternity, Keith finally groaned, lifting his unbroken hand to scrub down his face.

“Remind me next time _not_ to miss a dose,” he said. A hollow laugh left Hunk.

“Yeah, because I’m sure our buddies there would have made sure you got your meds. They seemed like nice enough fellows, right?” Keith snorted in spite of himself.

“Yeah. Sure. Real charmers.”

He finally lifted his head to meet Hunk’s eyes. A weight fell off Hunk’s shoulders when he saw the greyish-purple hue returned there, the gold fading away like it was never there at all. They both were still in rough shape, though, beaten and starved for days in this stupid abandoned shop even before all this.

“Damn, you hit hard,” Keith said after a moment. He struggled to right himself, and Hunk helped him sit up. “Sorry that you had to do that, though.” He tore his gaze away, letting it fall on his hands folded lightly in his lap.

Hunk sighed. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to stand there and put a spike through your temple, so.” Keith flinched at the bluntness of it. “Your freaky zombie powers are going to be the death of me one of these days, you know that?”

 _That_ got Keith’s attention. His head snapped up, worry setting his eyes alight. “I didn’t—don’t tell me I bit you.”

“Wouldn’t matter,” Hunk said with a shrug. He tapped one of the tattoos beneath his eyes. “I’m immune, remember? Worst you could have done was bite a finger off or something. You didn’t!” he added hastily, holding his hands up when Keith’s eyes went wide in alarm. “See? All digits intact.” He even wiggled them for good measure.

None of that seemed to help the haunted look on Keith’s face dissipate any. “Stupid genetic lottery,” he muttered. He looked down at his broken hand again, biting his lip. “I still could have seriously hurt you.”

“Look,” Hunk started, placing a hand on Keith’s good shoulder. “You didn’t ask for any of this. Insofar as I’m concerned, I’d _rather_ you have the Galra gene. Yeah, your zombie powers freak me the hell out. Yeah, you get pretty quiznaking scary when you haven’t had your inhibitor and you lose any control of said powers.”

Keith looked away. Hunk didn’t miss the flash of hurt on his face as he did. He shook the hand on his shoulder insistently until Keith looked at him again.

“The alternative is that you have nothing protecting you from a full-blown infection. I know resistance isn’t the same as immunity, and I’d give anything for you to have the Altea gene. But… it’s better than nothing, yeah? You’ll learn to control it without the inhibitor, Keith. I have faith in you. I’m just…” He blew out a sharp breath from between his teeth.

“I’m just really, really glad you’re not actually dead.”

Here he lifted his hand from Keith’s shoulders and punched him in jest. “You scared me, you asshole.”

Keith sniffled, but huffed in amusement. He cleared his throat and turned away, trying to discreetly wipe a few tears away. Hunk, being the good friend he was, let it slide.

“Thanks, Hunk,” Keith said, voice thick with emotion. “I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Hunk. He grinned, but the grin faltered as a thought occurred to him. “Seriously. Let’s not mention any of this to Lance. He’s already going to hand us our asses on a plate for being so late. And we’re coming back empty-handed, too…”

Keith seemed to realize the same thing, frowning. “We’re already late. Let’s try and patch ourselves up first and salvage what we can. We go back looking like this, the gate guards are going to mistake us for biters and shoot us on sight.”

“Lance is gonna lose his shit regardless of what we look like, I hope you know this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Speaking of what they looked like... "By the way," Hunk asked, gesturing to Keith's neck. "That... wasn't an actual bite, was it? I mean, I know you're already infected so you can't really get infected _again_ , but..." Keith blushed beet red.

"Yeah, no. It's not a bite. I mean, it _is_ , but not from a biter. That was... I mean... Lance might have gotten a little over-excited..."

Hunk cut him off. "You know what? Nope. That's enough. I'm sorry I asked." 

 

* * *

 

For the record, Lance _did_ in fact, lose his shit at the sight of them.

But not in the way Keith expected.

He expected outrage, stern lectures on personal safety and the importance of keeping tight schedules, even a shouting match or two littered with colorful Spanish curses. He got none of those.

What he got was so much more _heartbreaking_.

“ _Uncle Keith!!_ ” came the first shriek.

Nadia leapt from the porch and sprinted down the lawn in the blink of an eye, barreling into Keith and nearly knocking him over. Were it not for Hunk behind him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his feet. From the porch, Sylvio stood in shock for a long moment, before he ran screaming into the house.

“Uncle Lance!! Uncle Lance, come quick!!”

Keith had only just knelt to console a weeping Nadia blubbering into his chest when the front door slammed open. His heart leapt into his throat. There in the doorway stood his beloved, stood Lance, slack-jawed and pale as a ghost. In his arms, their toddler son, who didn’t seem to realize what was happening until he laid his eyes on Keith.

“ _Daddy!_ ” Leo cried, suddenly wriggling in Lance’s arms as he reached out for his dad.

Keith couldn’t wait any longer. He scooped Nadia up into his arms and strode across the grass. Lance jerked back into himself all at once and staggered down the porch steps, Sylvio hot on his heels. They met halfway, Lance grasping Keith behind the head with a free hand as soon as he could reach.

“You—” he gasped, pulling Keith down so their foreheads touched and staring into his face. His eyes flickered, roaming, _searching_ for answers that Keith could not give. “You’re alive. You came back.”

“I promised I would,” Keith whispered in return. He couldn’t help drinking in as much of Lance as he could get. His blue eyes, his scent, his warmth, all of it. Lance’s eyes glittered with tears, tears which quickly found their way down his face.

“You came back,” Lance croaked again, leaning even more into Keith. “ _You came back._ "

“Daddy back!” Leo echoed happily. “Daddy back! Daddy back!”

Words left Lance then, his face crumbling as his composure failed. When Lance’s legs gave out from beneath him, Keith was there, catching him, holding him, until his own legs gave out and they were in a heap on the grass. Nadia still buried her face in Keith’s neck, and Leo babbled as he was squished between his fathers and his cousin. Sylvio wrapped himself around as much of them as he could, burying his own tears into the back of Lance’s shirt.

“Don’t leave us again,” Lance wept, his thumb stroking the back of Keith’s neck. “Don’t leave us.”

“I won’t,” Keith swore. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Behind them, Keith dimly registered another voice shouting, someone sprinting up to them. He looked up through watery eyes to see Hunk sweeping his fiancée off her feet in the middle of the street, spinning her around as she too wept in his arms. He watched as Shay took Hunk’s face between the palms of her hands and kissed him soundly.

Later, Hunk and Keith would have to report in for a debriefing. Keith would need another dose of his inhibitor, and likely Pidge would have to stay with him for a few days to monitor him and report back to her parents. Shiro would come and tear him a new one, and Coran and Allura would come collect the goods they’d gotten from the run. Later, they’d find out they were the last of their group to return, three whole weeks after they’d first set out.

But all of that could wait.

For now, when Shay asked Hunk, “My God, are you both okay?”, he and Keith exchanged a look.

They were home. They were safe. They were _alive_. They had their families in their arms.

Keith nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. Hunk nodded right back.

“Yeah,” he said to Shay. “We’re okay now.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't clear: 
> 
> -Altea gene: full immunity. Will not develop the zombie infection even if bitten.  
> -Galra gene: infection resistence. If bitten, they technically become infected, but not actually decaying/atrophying like real zombies. With practice, can use the increased strength and stamina at will. Before then, require the use of an infection inhibitor to aid in keeping the infection from taking over the mind.


End file.
